


Five Times Dean Wore Cas's Coat, and One Time Cas Wore Dean's

by keylimepie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But everything's fine, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel Wears Dean Winchester's Clothes, Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Dean Winchester Wears Castiel's Trenchcoat, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Sharing Clothes, The finale isn't real and can't hurt you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keylimepie/pseuds/keylimepie
Summary: What it says on the tin. Various circumstances over the years in which Dean has worn Cas's coat, and a then a moment in which Cas wears Dean's.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 121





	Five Times Dean Wore Cas's Coat, and One Time Cas Wore Dean's

1\. At The Bar

Dean and Cas were sitting in a booth, beers and baskets of burgers and fries on the table in front of them. On the other side of the divider, the stools at the bar were nearly all filled. Dean was gazing out the window toward the parking lot, watching people pulling up to the to-go parking spaces, coming in the nearby door and fetching their bags of food from the counter behind him. The sleeves of his purple flannel were rolled up to his elbows, and he was stuffing fries into his mouth. 

“Shit!” he exclaimed around a mouthful of fries.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, frowning. 

“That’s the chick from the interview this morning. If she sees me in here like this, she’s gonna realize I’m not a priest.” 

“You went with priest?” Cas asked in disapproval.

“Spur of the moment. I dunno, man. Seemed to fit the case, Catholic college, blah blah blah.”

“You’re a terrible priest,” Cas said bluntly. “Well perhaps you ought to go hide in the men’s room.”

“I can’t! It’s a one-seater and there’s already someone in there.” Dean glanced around the bar frantically, then at Cas. “Gimme your coat,” he demanded.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your coat, Cas. Toss it over!” Cas looked uncomfortable, but he slid his trenchcoat off and passed it over to Dean. Dean draped it around himself, pulling it up over his head, and laid his head on his folded arms on the table top, feigning sleep. “Tell me when she’s gone,” he hissed.

Cas sighed and watched the door as the young woman came in, got her bag of take-out food, and left. Later, when he got his coat back, it was suffused with the heat and scent of Dean, and he smiled to himself as he pulled it back on.

2\. Salt and Burn

They had dug up the bones, with Cas taking on the brunt of the work there, insisting that digging a grave was much easier for him than it was for Dean. Afterward, Dean had pulled him up and sprinkled salt and fuel into the bone pile - the coffin was disintegrated already; poor bastard had been dead over 200 years - and thrown the lit match down.

It was flaming up rather well when the ghost showed up again. “Um, what the hell?” Dean exclaimed, after thrusting the iron shovel through it and disintegrating it again. “Wrong guy?” 

“Or we missed a spot,” Cas suggested. He pointed at an odd-shaped lump in the dirt pile. A dirt-encrusted piece of bone had been dug up with the grave dirt. 

“Shit,” Dean muttered. He pulled the piece out just as the ghost came back again. As Cas snatched up the shotgun from the ground and fired a salt round at the ghost, Dean rolled quickly away and toward the fire, and he thrust the bone down into the flames. The ghost screamed and disappeared, but as Dean pulled his arm free, his sleeve was aflame as well. “Shitshitshitshit!” he said, slapping the flames frantically. 

“Dean!” Cas exclaimed, aghast. He dropped the shotgun and ran toward Dean. Cas whipped his coat off and wrapped it around Dean, smothering the flames. 

“Let me see,” he demanded, pulling the coat away as the flames died down. Dean’s face was contorted in pain and he was gasping and panting. 

The sleeve of his green flannel was almost completely burned away, hanging in charred tatters around his elbow. His flesh was badly burned as well, second and third degree burns from his hand up to his bicep. Dean’s face was pale and clammy; already he was going into shock, and he clutched at Cas’s shirtfront with his good hand. He whimpered and looked at Cas with desperate eyes. Cas hadn’t seen Dean so out of his mind with pain since Hell. He longed to wrap him up and soothe him as he had then. 

Cas concentrated his grace and poured it into Dean. It was a difficult healing; there was so much damage, and Cas was lightheaded by the time he’d finished. But at last, Dean’s arm looked good as new, and his breathing and his color returned to normal. Still, Cas didn’t want to let him go. They sat quietly for a long moment before they finally pulled apart and began cleaning up. 

3\. After a Swim

The pond hadn’t seemed all that cold when Dean had jumped in after the little girl - not that he would have hesitated no matter the temperature, he just hadn’t thought it was going to be this unpleasant. She was struggling, just barely keeping her head above the surface, but he could tell she was terrified and it was taking all the strength and skill of her little body just to keep her chin up. 

It was crazy, Dean thought as the cold seeped through his body, that the kid had to go and end up in life threatening danger again after the freaking hunt was over and the monsters were dead. Lucky that Dean had been down near the car looking for another axe when the kid had lost her footing on the wet, muddy slope and ended up in the water. Damn lucky.

Dean reached her quickly, though it felt like forever as the seconds ticked on. The pond was perhaps up to his chest at the deepest, and he held her firmly against him as he walked them both out of the water. “Okay, you’re okay,” he kept reassuring her. “Let’s just get you to your sister.” Their mom was gone, one of the werewolves’ first victims, but at least the kid and her teenaged sister were going to be okay. 

The sister and her boyfriend had rushed from the barn to the pond when they saw the commotion. Once Dean made it to shore, they hustled the kid over to their car and got her out of the wet clothes and into dry things. Dean stood there on the shore, dripping and shivering. Sam and Jack were out behind the barn, working on the pyre to deal with the bodies of the werewolves, and Dean knew that he should get changed and go help them. 

He ducked behind the Impala with his bag of clothes. Jeans, socks, dry t-shirt. Nothing to do about shoes though, and he didn’t have so much as a flannel in this bag, nevermind a jacket. Everything else was back at the motel. 

He had stripped from the waist up and thrown everything over a tree branch and was struggling out of his soaked jeans when Cas pulled up in his pickup truck. It was stupid, but Dean felt suddenly self-conscious that he was standing there with his soaking wet gray boxer briefs pasted to his skin, and he quickly pulled on his dry jeans. By the time Cas got out of the truck and walked over to him, he’d finished dressing, at least with what he had available. He sat on the back seat, socked feet propped up on the doorway, as Cas approached.

“I take it things didn’t go well?” Cas asked.

“Oh, you know. Just decided to go for a swim in a freezing pond in all my clothes,” Dean said. “Don’t suppose you have dry shoes or a coat stuffed in that thing somewhere?” he asked, gesturing at Cas’s truck. A chilly breeze ruffled Cas’s hair adorably, and made his coat billow out behind him. Dean shivered. “I’m frigging cold.” 

Cas stepped closer to him, blocking the wind, and Dean could almost feel the heat radiating off Cas and seeping into his chilled body. Maybe it was a grace thing he was doing, or maybe Dean was just imagining it. Cas started slipping his arms out of his coat. 

“Oh, no, Cas, I don’t wanna take yours-”

“Dean, I’m fine. I don’t require clothing at all. Just put it on.” That statement short-circuited Dean’s brain thoroughly enough that he simply did as he was told and put the coat on. “As far as shoes, I do believe I still have the running shoes that Jack chose for me at the mall. Let me go get you those.” 

Several minutes later, they walked out toward the barn to assist Sam and Jack, Dean feeling odd and awkward in the pristine Nike sneakers and Cas’s coat flapping around his legs. “Hopefully the werewolf bonfire will warm me up soon, and then you can have your coat back,” Dean said. 

Cas smiled. “You can wear it as long as you need to, Dean.” 

Dean coughed and mumbled a thanks, and they walked quietly the rest of the way.

4\. Lost in the Woods

“It’s getting dark,” Dean whined, rubbing his forearms with his hands. The friction against the soft blue flannel did little to warm him up. 

“Sunset was 23 minutes ago,” Cas said. They walked along through the woods, crunching over the dead leaves and branches on the ground. They’d had to hike out to check on an abandoned shack that may have been the monster’s hideout. Turned out to be a dead end after all, and a waste of effort. Now they were headed back to where the car was parked at the trailhead, though they still had another mile or two to go.

“Yeah, well it was barely warm enough when the sun was up. Now it’s frickin’ freezing.”

“Even with the exertion of the walking?” Cas asked, frowning in concern. “I understood that physical activity could keep humans warm in such situations.”

“Yeah, well it ain’t enough in this situation,” Dean grumbled. “I got goosebumps.” 

“Well there’s no sense in you suffering needlessly,” Castiel said. He stopped Dean with a hand to his shoulder, then pulled his coat off and held it out for him. Dean slipped his arms into the sleeves before he even really thought about it. He pulled it close around his body, soaking in the warmth of the angel that still clung to it. 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said gruffly. He started walking again, and Cas fell into step beside him, their fingers brushing together with every step. It was hard to resist the urge to simply grab his hand as they walked along. The thought scared Dean, but it didn’t really surprise him. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about holding Cas’s hand. But, without a good solid reason to do so, he couldn’t very well just grab it.

When they got back to the Impala, Dean pulled his heavy green jacket from the trunk and gave Cas’s back to him. He grinned as Cas shrugged back into it. “Looks better on you anyway,” he said. He ducked into the driver’s seat and started the car before he could notice the pleased look on Cas’s face, and maybe end up finding a reason to grab his hand after all. 

5\. Nothing Else Left

Cas had been taken away from him three weeks ago, sucked into that unforgiving void. Dean had pushed through the necessity of defeating Chuck, had gotten Sam and himself back home, and since then had gone numbly through, day after day, somehow continuing to exist. It hurt too much to let himself think or feel anything at all. 

He’d finally brought himself to come into Cas’s room. For weeks it had been so hard to even think about doing, and now suddenly he couldn't do anything else. He just needed something, some kind of connection to Cas. Some way to feel Cas still with him. 

The room was so sparse. A few knicknacks on the dresser. Papers on the desk. A tablet full of case notes and little things he’d jotted down for himself. Dean ran his hand over these; traced the way Cas formed each letter, tried to remember his hands as they held a pen, a beer bottle, Dean’s shoulder. He turned away from the desk abruptly. 

The dresser drawers contained almost nothing. A pair of pajamas, a pair of jeans and a few t-shirts. The hooks on the wall behind the door held a red hoodie, a pair of slacks and a suit jacket on hangers. 

And a trench coat. It was the shorter style that Cas had tried for a while and abandoned. Dean didn’t know why; he’d never asked. He’d give anything to ask Cas something right now, just to talk about stupid crap like clothes, or the little snowglobe on the dresser, or the notes on the tablet about some case Claire had been working. Or, better still, to tell Cas that he was in love with him too, that Cas could have him, that he just wanted to be with Cas, be whatever he needed. 

Dean felt his body begin to tremble, and he started crying. He pulled the coat off the hook, wrapped himself in it, and laid down on the bed and let the full-body sobs overtake him. It felt like hours as he sobbed brokenly and let himself feel the full measure of his loss. 

As the worst of the flood died down, he whispered Cas’s name, over and over again, rocking back and forth with the coat pulled tightly around him. He could smell him on the coat he hadn’t worn in years, on the bed he’d never slept in. He could feel Cas all around him, wrapped through the core of who he was. How could he keep existing without Cas here, when so much of him was tied to Cas? “Cas, I’ll find you. I’ll get you out of there, I swear I will, or I’ll die trying,” he gasped through his tears. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. Can’t let you go.” 

When Sam returned hours later and poked his head in the open door of Cas’s room, Dean was still wrapped in Cas’s coat and lying on his bed, sniffling and crying quietly. He sat up as Sam came into the room, and Sam sat next to him on the bed and put an arm around him.

“Sammy, we gotta find a way to rescue him,” Dean sobbed. “I need him.” 

Sam just squeezed his shoulder and sighed. “Yeah, okay. I’ll help.”

1\. Returning the Favor

The spell was completed and the smoke was beginning to clear. Dean coughed and opened his eyes cautiously, waved his arms in front of his face to get a clear breath of air. The barn seemed still, unchanged. Nothing, again. Maybe there was nothing, maybe this really was hopeless. Dean felt the weight of despair like a vice around his heart. 

A gentle breeze wafted through the open barn doors and cleared the air out a little faster.   
And then Dean spotted him. Lying on the floor, ten yards or so in front of him, just visible through the thinning clouds. A crumpled figure in rags. Bare feet, tattered slacks, a once-white dress shirt gone grubby and stained with blood. And tousled, dark hair. He was face down in the dirt of the old barn, in the spot where he’d once stood proud and unafraid and let Dean stab him through the heart. 

“Cas?” Dean asked, running over. “Oh please, oh please,” he murmured, scarcely aware of his voice as he knelt in the dirt. He touched him, turned him over carefully. He was unconscious but breathing. His poor face was battered. One eye was swollen and purple, his nose looked broken, and his hair was matted in blood at his temple. “Cas, please, please wake up,” Dean begged, sliding an arm under his shoulder and pulling him half onto his lap. The solid weight of him was somehow reassuring. 

Dean’s fingers traced carefully over the uninjured parts of his face. “Cas, buddy- sweetheart, angel, please. Oh, Cas.” Dean only noticed that he was crying when tears started dripping onto Cas’s face. 

Cas took a deep breath in and let out a low moan. His face crinkled up with pain. “Whhh?” he wheezed out, and his hands came up towards his face to shield himself.

“Hey! Hey, Cas,” Dean said. “It’s me. I’ve got you.”

“Dean?” he choked out. “What are you doing here?” He tried to sit up, but quickly collapsed back onto Dean’s lap with a pained cry.

“Don’t try to move. Where are you hurt?” Dean asked.

“Everywhere,” Cas moaned. “Think my arm is broken. Maybe a rib, I don’t… I suppose I… am I on Earth?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, good ol’ terra firma. Hey, so… can you heal yourself or is the mojo all gone?”

“I’m not human, but I think… it’s going to take me some time,” Cas said. 

“Well you’re just gonna have to let me take care of you then,” Dean said. “Let’s get you home - well to a motel for now, get you patched up and then get home. ‘S a long drive from here.”

Cas looked around, taking in his surroundings for the first time. “This is… the barn where…”

“Yeah, uh. We thought that maybe the spell wasn’t working because it needed to be more of a significant location.” As he spoke, he was carefully helping Cas to his feet. Even when he’d stood all the way and seemed steady on his feet, Dean kept his hands on Cas’s waist, and Cas continued to lean on his arms. “Cas, you gotta let me tell you now.” 

“What?” Cas asked, frowning in confusion.

“I love you, you idiot,” Dean said softly. “I was too chickenshit to ever tell you. Too afraid to make it weird and lose you. Too afraid of how... overwhelming it is. But I don’t ever want to live without you again, Cas. There’s been too much of that, and I hate it.” He leaned in and pressed the barest, gentlest of kisses to Cas’s injured lips. 

When he pulled back and opened his eyes, Cas was looking at him in shock. “There’s more where that came from, when you’re feeling better,” Dean added. “If you want.” 

“Of course I want!” Cas’s fingers dug into Dean’s forearm where he held on, and Dean noticed how chilly they felt, and how he was trembling. 

“You’re cold,” Dean accused. “Here.” Carefully, he slipped his thick, navy blue jacket off and tucked it around Cas’s shoulders. Cas held it closed with his good hand, and with Dean’s arm around his shoulders, they walked to the car. 

Dean cranked the heat up in the car and tucked a blanket over Cas, his touches lingering as he adjusted it carefully. Cas’s hand brushed over his, and they looked into each other's eyes. “I missed you so much, Cas. I… I just need you to stay this time, baby. Please, stay.”

“I want to stay with you, Dean. Of course.” Tears glistened on his cheek. “I have never wanted to leave you.”

By the time they got to Dean’s motel room a few miles away, the swollen eye had healed to just a few purplish-yellow bruises, the worst of the cuts were gone, and the broken bones seemed completely healed as well. But he still shivered in the night air when he stepped out of the car, and clutched Dean’s jacket around him. 

Sam met them at the room door and he scooped Cas into a hug. There were tears in the corners of his eyes when he pulled away. 

“Cas, I can’t tell you how glad I am to have you back with us,” Sam said. “I was afraid we were never gonna figure it out.” 

“Dean told me that you’ve been trying various spells for months. I can’t thank you enough, Sam.” He sat down on the edge of the nearest bed, and Dean went to pull beers from the fridge and hand them around. 

“How about food, Cas?” Dean asked. “With your grace low, maybe a little grub will boost you back up?” 

“It can’t hurt,” Cas agreed. He sipped at the open beer bottle Dean had handed him. “This beer does have a bit of flavor. If nothing else, perhaps I should enjoy some food while I’m able.” 

“Sorry we don’t have PB&J,” Sam apologized. “But there are three burritos, some beef chow mein, and half a ham and cheese sub in the fridge.” 

“I don’t know,” Cas said. “Surprise me.” 

Sam went to the kitchenette and began fixing him a plate with a little of everything. Dean sat on the opposite bed and watched him quietly. “You’re here, you’re really here,” he murmured, low enough that Sam couldn’t hear him. “Drinking a beer, wrapped in my coat - looks great on you, by the way,” Dean added, blushing. Cas gave him a bashful smile, and then they couldn't seem to stop staring at each other.

Sam brought the plate over and handed it to Cas, who began eating eagerly. “So, um. While I was waiting here, I talked to Eileen. She’d actually like some help with the case in Tennessee.” He cleared his throat and looked back and forth from Cas to Dean. “I was thinking about leaving now, actually. I could get there tomorrow.” 

Dean frowned. “You gonna drive overnight? No sleep?”

“I actually slept a lot today. I’m good for it,” Sam said. “I’ll catch up with you guys back at the bunker in a few days, okay?” 

“Stay safe, Sam. And say hello to Eileen for me,” Cas said as Sam gathered his things and headed out. 

Cas finished his meal and put the plate aside. Now when Dean looked at him there were no wounds at all, and his movements were unencumbered by pain. It seemed that Cas was recovering just fine, and Dean exhaled and felt the tension release from his shoulders. And then Cas stood and stretched, letting Dean’s coat fall from his shoulders onto the bed, and he began unbuttoning his torn and bloodstained shirt, and Dean felt a different kind of tension. 

“Cas…” he rasped. 

Cas smirked at him knowingly. “I’m afraid that my shirt is beyond repair,” he said, tossing the tattered garment toward the wastebasket. 

“You can always have one of mine,” Dean said. He stood up and unbuttoned the sleeves of his flannel, pulled it off and handed it to Cas. Cas dropped it onto the bed and put his hands on Dean’s waist, smoothing over the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“You want this one, too?” Dean asked, letting himself be pulled closer to Cas’s body.

“I want to kiss you,” Cas replied. He’d scarcely finished the sentence when their lips met, and they melted into each other. 

*

The next morning, when they left the motel room, Cas was once again wearing Dean’s coat. He was also wearing Dean’s t-shirt, jeans, underwear, socks, and spare boots. He wore seventeen hickies from Dean on various parts of his body, and the happiest smile Dean had ever seen on him. 

“Kinda like seeing you in my clothes,” Dean said. He fixed the coat collar and brushed Cas’s hair back from his forehead, just to brush his fingertips over his skin. “Makes me feel like you’re really mine.” 

Cas sighed and leaned into the touch. “I do believe that I’ll resume wearing my own clothes once I can, but rest assured, Dean - no matter what I’m wearing, I am yours.” 

Dean tugged him close by the lapels of his coat and kissed him. “I’m yours too, angel,” he murmured. “Now let’s go home.”


End file.
